I Think Some Serious Physics Just Happened
by Donteatacowman
Summary: Ron gives his life for Kim, but wakes up alone on a street corner… in our world. With nothing but the clothes he died in on his back and the power of imagination, can he learn to cope in a world with no super heroes, Bueno Nachos, or happily ever afters?
1. Just the beginning

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received. Unlike "And I Escaped!", I did not finish writing this prior to its posting. The plot bunny tore at me until I wrote what's happened so far (man, those things have sharp teeth!). I have a tiny bit more to post, but I would **really **__appreciate plot ideas although I have the general direction of the story, as well as the ending, in mind. This takes place about five years (give or take) after "Graduation"- Kim and Ron are married, but are still young and have not yet had children._

"And now, Fraulein Possible, you shall meet your doom!" The maniacal shouting rang in my ears as the pint-sized supervillain laughed and held a red flashlight up to his face for dramatic effect. Kim- my beautiful, strong, wonderful wife who can do almost anything she sets her mind to, including save the world- stood stiff and unimpressed at the ray gun pointed at her heart. She'd faced down worse and lived to tell. This was totally normal, just a mission before we stopped to see _Bricks of Fury: The REALLY Final Brickening_ at the theater. Kim would get out of this easily. The villains always made some mistake.

Any time, Rufus would pop out of nowhere and bite Dementor, or one of the henchmen would trip onto the machine and ruin the evil genius's plan.

I could see the gun firing up, almost feeling its white-hot, searing electricity.

_Any time now…_

Something's wrong. Kim's frozen in place. She's panicking!

Kim can't panic! Kim never panics! I panic, but Kim always knows what to do! Oh, my gosh, she's not moving!

C'mon, KP, move, move, _move!_

_She's not moving!_

_Oh, I get it. This is where time is supposed to slow down and I see my life flashing before my eyes, then I jump in front of the ray._

_How unoriginal._

_Why can't I die of naco poisoning or just keel over in the middle of Smarty Mart? Nobody's ever done that. No, I have to go and die dramatically in a villain's lair like every other comical sidekick._

I launched myself in front of Kim as the bright light blasted a path toward her. I got an urge to turn around and laugh death in the face. So I did. Loudly. I laughed harder than I ever had in my life, my insane giggling some by-product of the adrenaline now pumping through my system.

_Ron, shut up. _

I obliged, suddenly blinded by the death ray. _Here it is, the last moment of my life here on this earth. Here's the part where I yell out something witty and memorable for everyone to remember me by._ A grim realization made me flinch as my death literally filled my vision and I felt a sharp, last jolt of pain.

"Frackle, I'm gonna miss the movie!"

* * *

Woah. My head was pounding so hard it was nearly deafening. Or was that my heart? _Both_, I decided. I felt like I'd gone ten rounds with Shego. Every part of my body felt like it had been frozen and was only now thawing. _Ouch._ The pain dulled gradually as I pulled myself to my knees from the spread eagle position I'd been in. I looked around at the abandoned street corner I was on. A strangely rough brick building behind me gave me something to lean on in the warm glow of the street lamp a few feet away. My clothes were a bit fried somehow, but wearable, with the exemption of my pants. Those were too charred to wear.

_Figures.  
_

_Okay. Remember what Kim said. "If you ever find yourself alone, abandoned, and dazed, find help and try to remember what last happened." Alone? Check. Abandoned? Check. Dazed? Check. Soooo…_

"Help! Help!" I called out into the twilight, then paused. Nope. Nothing. "Ah, well. Worth a shot," I muttered, pushing myself up._ Let's try the next option, then. Mission, Dementor's lair, death ray…_

_Death ray?_

_Death ray!!_

I thought my eyes would pop out of their sockets. _I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead…_ I thought frantically as I patted myself down. I let my hand rest on my heart, feeling it pump its life-giving liquid throughout my body, and took a deep breath of relief. _I'm alive…_

**_Huh?_**


	2. What the heck is Taco Bell?

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received._

"Okay," I said, running my hands through my hair. "Like Wade would say, 'I'm sure there's a scientifical explanation for this.' Or I think he'd say that, anyway…

"Wait, Wade? That's it! The Kimmunicator!" I pulled the blue device out of the remains of my cargos. "Ron, sometimes your geniusness astounds me." Pushing the oval button, I waited for Wade's face to pop up on the screen, but I got nothing. Not even static. _That's weird; Wade made this thing to stand through even a doomsday device's blast..._

"Hmm. Okay, what would Kim do in this 'sitch'?" I once again looked around me at the deserted street corner. _Probably look for somebody who owes her a favor or use her grapple gun to climb on top of a building for a bird's eye view. __**Not helpful**__. I don't have any favors or a grapple gun._ I sighed. Hanging around here until somebody recognized me probably wasn't a good idea; not too many people even knew my name.

I heard my stomach rumble, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunchtime. Who knows how much time passed between then and now? _Well, a Bueno Nacho is a good place to start looking. There are at least 30,000 worldwide, so there's got to be one around here. Hopefully a 24-hour one._

I began to walk away, looking for the restaurant. After about twenty minutes of wandering around in silence, I spotted a festively decorated fast-food place about a block away. I began to speed up a little, until I saw the sign. "TACO BELL", it proclaimed in bold blue letters under an image of a large pinkish bell lit up by the bright sign. "Taco Bell"? I mumbled uncertainly. I- the self-proclaimed snack fanatic- had never heard of the chain, but here it was. My stomach once again reminded me of my hunger-induced plight, and I continued toward it. _It's no Bueno Nacho, but it'll have to do._

I entered the store, hearing a jingle from the bell that signaled my arrival. I stepped up to the counter, where a bored cashier seemed so nearly asleep he didn't even notice my lack of leg coverings, and glanced up at the menu. Upon seeing the prices, I felt like slapping my forehead. I didn't have any money! Kim kept all the cash with her on missions, ever since that time Drakken and Shego stole my naco royalties. _Just because I kept all 99 million dollars in my pockets doesn't mean I'm not wise with money. _Regardless, I was out of Claude.

"Hey, um…" I looked at the employee's name tag, "Fred…"

"I'm not Fred." The man looked up. "I left my name tag at home, so I borrowed his. What do you wanna order?"

I bit my lip. "Food."

"Well, what's stoppin' you?"

"I'm broke."

"Well, why're you in here?"

"I'm hungry."

The man-who-wasn't-Fred sighed. "Look, I'm not in the mood to toss out bums right now, alright? Come back tomorrow."

My stomach, which seemed much too loud for its own good right then, grumbled noisily. "C'mon, dude, can't I get a freebie? I've had a really rough day. Don't you have any jobs I can do to work it off?"

The guy sighed again and muttered something about protocol, then stuck his thumb behind him. "This is against every regulation in the book, but I just don't want to deal with you or the labor tonight. You wanna work? Go do the dishes and I'll give you a couple leftover tacos. We'd have to throw them out anyway."

I pumped my arm in the air victoriously. "Booyah!"

Not-Fred gave me an odd look like I'd said something weird.

"Um, I mean, thanks, man. I owe you one."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He said, leaning his head on the counter. "Honestly, I hate these night shifts…"

I followed his vague thumb-pointing direction and ended up in a small, cluttered kitchen. Looking around, my eyes came to rest on a huge pile of pots, pans, and other kitchen utensils that seemed to fill my vision. I groaned in despair and picked up a washcloth as I began to run the hot water. "Remember, you're doin' it for the Tex-Mex, you're doin' it for the Tex-Mex…"


	3. And where is Littleton?

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received. Also, I've never been to Littleton, Colorado. Any opinions expressed by Not-Fred on his hometown are his and not my own._

_I am, for lack of a better phrase, tickled pink by how positive the reviews I have gotten so far are, and how many of you put this on your "Story Alert"! I am very proud of this fic so far, and am glad to see you guys like it, too. A special shout-out to: Troper (from RS Net), CajunBear73, Willowleaf2560, Kimberly, daccu65, Sentinel103, bthecatslayer, James Doyle, and AtomicFire. I'm pleased to see this new project getting so much more traffic than my others. Thanks for the encouragement, guys!__  
_

"Hmm…" I crunched my taco and thought about the taste. A bit pre-packaged; not nearly as good as a naco, but better than nothing. Then again, just about anything tastes good when you're hungry. As I ate I glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall opposite me. The hands pointed to the one and the three, indicating that it was about 1:15 in the morning. I'd been there for almost an hour, doing the dishes and eating my snackage, and it took me about twenty minutes to walk to "Taco Bell", so that must mean... I did some quick math in my head. I must have gotten to the corner at about midnight. _Maybe my coach turned back into a pumpkin and dumped me off at the street corner,_ I chuckled to myself. _Yeah, but I lost my pants, not my glass slipper. That'd make a pretty wonky fairy tale. What'd Kim think of that?_

_I wonder what Kim's doing right now. Maybe she's missing me…_

_Does she even know I'm alive?_

Concerned for my spouse's emotional well-being, I began to think about how I would get home. "Hey, hey… Mister?"

The cashier gave me a look that seemed to say, "Why are you still here?"

I ignored the expression. "Do you have a phone or something I could borrow?"

"Sure," the man said blandly and began to point to a pay phone, but, remembering my current state of cashlessness, thought better of it and tossed me a cellular phone from his pocket. It was a bright hot pink with sparkling rhinestones decorating its front.

I glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, this is Fred's, too?"

"Naw, my ex-girlfriend's."

_I'd rather not know._ I flipped open the phone and dialed Kim's cell number. I jumped as loud, high-pitched _beep-beep-be-beeping_ filled my ears and ripped the cell phone away from my head. The man stared at me.

"Heh, um, I must have dialed a wrong number…" I stuttered, trying again. I got the same result.

"Man, what number are you calling?" Waking up a bit, Not-Fred seemed to be a little more accommodating.

"1-555-555-0173."

"Dude, that's one of those fake TV numbers! Who gave it to you?"

"My wife."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"No!" I bit back sharply. "I've been calling this number for the past four years!"

"Look, I might not be a college grad, but I know a made-up number when I hear it."

I frowned and tried our home phone number. Then Wade's. Then my parents'. Then Kim's parents'. Each time I got the same infuriatingly repetitive tone. I pulled the phone away again. "What the heck…"

"Look, where do you live? Maybe I can get the phone book."

"Middleton. Middleton, Colorado."

Not-Fred snorted. "You're joking, right? Or did I hear you wrong?"

"No." I was a little frustrated. "What? What's so funny?"

"I've never heard of 'Middleton'. This is _Littleton_, Colorado. You know, home of 'nothing-ever-happens'?"

_What?_

Mentally shoving aside the questions for later, I deduced that I would be spending the night here at… "Littleton", wherever that was.

"Hey, do you know any good hotels or something around here?" I asked.

"I thought you were broke."

"Oh, yeah." I chuckled nervously. "I forgot."

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, you're not going to sleep in a booth here. I'll get in enough trouble after letting a guy off the street work for food."

"Well, where should I go?"

"You're askin' me? Why should I care where a random hobo sleeps for the night?"

"_Hobo_?" I said, offended. "Just because I'm lost, hungry, broke, and missing some vital parts of my clothing doesn't make me a hobo!"

Not-Fred snorted again. "Are you listening to yourself? Or are you just saying whatever pops into your head?"

"Hmph!" I crossed my arms indignantly. "Well, I don't have to hang around here to be insulted!"

"Then don't. Let me show you the door. See?" He waved his arms in the exit's general direction. "There it is. Don't trip on your way out."

"You're just gonna kick me out?"

"Yep."

"What…" I searched my mind for something useful to keep me around the only acquaintance I had in "Littleton". "What about your girlfriend's cell phone?"

Not-Fred came from around the counter to not-so-gently escort me out. "_Ex_-girlfriend's. And keep it. Not like she'd be getting it back."

"But-" I was cut off by the jingle of the door slamming behind my back.

"Guy-who-isn't-Fred!" I cried desperately to the man behind the door. "I thought we had something!" No reply came.

I suddenly had the urge to take out Rufus from my pocket. I needed some company.

_Oh, right._ Rufus had been at home on the last mission. Still the "tweebs"' favorite test pilot, he had promised Kim's younger twin brothers that he would help them test out their latest mini-aircraft, the _Kimminator Mark 3_. They had named it after her as a present for Kim's last birthday.

_Kim._ I missed Kim even more than I missed Rufus, if such a thing were possible. A naked mole rat buddy is all well and good, but sometimes a guy needs a girl to come home to; and I couldn't think of any girl I'd rather come home to than Kim.

Well, I wouldn't be going home to her tonight, anyway. I walked away from the restaurant and began scouting around for a place to sit down.

I had lost track of time as I wandered around Littleton. Eventually I came to a field of lush grass with a fenced-in pool and playground. I peered at the large yellow sign near me and squinted to read it in the early morning light. It said in all lowercase, cutely rounded letters, "harlow park". I smiled tiredly and glanced around in hopes of finding a park bench of some sort.

_Score!_ I trudged gratefully to the bench and stretched out on it. The hard surface was uncomfortable but easily ignorable; I'm usually up for a nap at any time of day, and it was already pretty late… or early, depending on how you thought of it. I turned onto my stomach and rested my head in the crook of my arms, closing my eyes and beginning to drift off…


	4. The Dawn's Early Light

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received. I do not own "Girls Just Want to Have Fun", which is sung by Cyndi Lauper, either. Also, I've never been to Littleton, Colorado; thank God for Google maps! And I don't speak Hungarian, so please forgive any mistranslation on my part._

* * *

_Grzlpltz…_

_Not yet…_

_I don't wanna get up…_

The bright light visible through my eyelids was relentless, though. There was no way I'd get to sleep again with the sun shining directly on me. _I shoulda closed the blinds before bedtime._

Moaning, I rolled over on my bed-

"Ow!" I ejected as the grassy earth swiftly came up to meet my face with a dull thud. I sat up and rubbed my head. _What the heck?_ I looked around at the park I was in. _Oh, yeah. Harlow Park in Littleton._

What was I supposed to do? There was no way I was getting back to sleep again.

I grunted and stood up as I stretched with a yawn. _Might as well walk around for a while, maybe see if they're planning on opening the playground._

For the first few months after we got married, Kim always used to nag me to get up at dawn and see the sunrise with her. After one-too-many failed attempts to drag me out of bed at five A.M., she finally gave up. _Maybe I should have gotten up once in a while, though, if this is what a normal sunrise is like._ The sun, a pale but striking yellowish-orange, rose in the distance, taking center stage to the display of pinks, purples, and reds stretched out behind it. _Strange,_ I thought. _Not even the sunrises at Yamanouchi could have compared to this... __**variety**__ of colors. _I gazed at the park itself, from the dark shadows to the glittering pool water to the towering treetops. _Not just the sunrises_, I realized. _Wherever I am, this place is so…_ I searched my mind for a term. …_detailed. So many shades of each color, so many individual blades of grass and leaves of the trees._ I suddenly felt like a blind person that seeing the world for the first time. So many new things to witness, so many small pieces making up each big thing! How could I not have noticed back in Middleton?

_Because it wasn't like this back in Middleton._ I'd lived there almost all of my life, exploring ever nook and cranny, and I knew what it looked like.

_Toto,_ I thought to myself as an eerie chill ran up and down my spine, _We ain't in Kansas any more._

* * *

_Okay, self, think. This is technically impossible, right? Right._

_So is a device that can make people evil, glowing powers from comet radiation, and mutating fish-man barf, but that never stopped-_

_Wait, what? Since when are those things impossible? They're perfectly feasible, and they've happened before. Why would I think they're impossible now?_

_Because they make no sense._

_Well… neither does Mystical Monkey Power, but that doesn't mean-_

I stopped mid-thought as I noticed something. I couldn't feel the Mystical Monkey Power!

Ever since that day I jumped in the middle of those stone monkeys that originally gave me the Power, there had been a sort of… presence wherever I went. It used to freak me out, so I ignored it most of the time, until my graduation day when the Lorwardians attacked. That day, I had to fully embrace the Power to save Kim and the rest of the world. From then on forward, it seemed much more defined, something specific I could feel all the time and tap into when absolutely needed.

But it wasn't there anymore. I couldn't sense it!

_Oh my gosh, what happened yesterday?_

_Duh, you died._

I mentally scoffed. _**Other **__than that? _I paused, mulling it over. …_Maybe I went crazy. That would explain a lot._

_Like "Taco Bell", the weird colors, and the missing MMP?_

_Yes, and it might be why I'm __**talking to myself!**_

_Technically, __**thinking**__ to yourself._

_Whatever._

_Well, ex-cuuuuse me for trying to help you figure stuff out._

_Who __**are**__ you?_

_Your brain. Yes, I know we don't talk too much, but I thought it might be time to get reacquainted_.

I grabbed my head. "Argh, I _am_ going insane!"

_Going, going, gone!_

_Shut up._

I had to find something- anything- to do besides think to myself all morning. Idly, I pulled out Not-Fred's pink cell phone and began toying with it, picking at the glued-on rhinestones and flipping it open and closed. I began exploring it, seeing what ringtones were downloaded onto it (only one- "Girls Just Want to Have Fun") and the games downloaded on it. I started messing with the buttons, and after about an hour, was able to play the chorus of The Oh Boyz's "Hello, Hello, Hello". Eventually, though, I accidentally pressed "Send" and heard the other line start ringing.

"Halló." A strangely-accented voice said.

_Oops._

"Halló? Ki ez?"

I pressed the red button quickly and the phone, thankfully, hung up. _Whew. What now?_

A rare flash of inspiration hit me. _Call 411 for information!_

_Haha! I really __**am**__ a genius! Thank you, brain!_

_Yeah, anytime._

I dialed the three numbers.

"Hello, 411 for information. How may I help you?" A female voice said automatically.

"Um, hi. I'm in Littleton, Colorado, and I'm needing… ah…"

_Um, what do I need again? Something… Something that'll give me more info… Kimmunicator? Broken. Books? Too boring. How about a computer for the internet? The "information superhighway" and all that._

"Um, a free internet connection."

"Have you tried the local library, sir?"

"Yeah, see, I'm kinda new in town…"

"Would you like for me to give you the address?"

"Yes!" I was relieved. "Please."

"Let me see, now…" I thought I could hear typing in the background. "Here it is. 6014 S. Datura Street. Its computers have free internet use."

_Brain 2, Ron 0._

"Thanks a lot!"

"Certainly."

I flipped the phone off and wandered along the street briskly. Fortunately, I remembered the way back to the Taco Bell I had strayed from, and arrived after a short period of time. I cautiously opened the door and heard the jingling bell as I peeked in. Happily, the person at the counter was not the same that threw me out last night; it was a lady, in fact, one that looked to be in her mid- or upper-thirties and was dressed in a manager's uniform.

"Excuse me," I said nervously, worried that the-man-who-wasn't-Fred might have warned her about hungry, pantsless hobos. "Can you give me directions to 6014 S. Datura Street?"

She answered with a slight hint of a southern drawl. "Sure 'nough. Jus' take Bellview Avenue east until you hit Windermere, then turn left at Littleton Boulevard…"

I struggled to remember the short list of names she rattled off to me and thanked her, darting back out the door, as I hoped to avoid delaying in case Not-Fred was only on a coffee break.

I followed her directions to the best of my abilities, and after a few wrong turns and about an hour, I came to a large red-and-white building with flashy, decorative artsy-type windows.

It was then that I remembered that I didn't have a library card. _Snap._

I was about to turn away when I spotted a rectangular hole on the side of the building with nothing but a grate in front of it, and an idea began to hatch in my mind.

_**Another**__ idea? That's three in one day- a new record for the Ronster!_

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up," I muttered to myself as I plotted, undeterred. Maybe I wouldn't need a library card, after all…


	5. Wikipedia and Fiction

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received. I do not own Wikipedia, RonStoppable dot net, Youtube, Google (which is the built-in search engine Ron used and I used for reference), or any other websites/articles referred to here. The article Ron reads is copied directly from Wikipedia; I did not write it nor do I own any rights to it._

"Ugh!"

_Okay, Maybe this wasn't such a brilliant idea after all,_ I thought as I crawled through the narrow ventilation shaft of the library, desperately trying to untangle my legs that were trailing behind me while I pulled myself forward. _What if I get stuck in here? Who'll look for me? What if-_

_No,_ I told myself. _If there's one thing I've learned though all my missions with KP through the years, it's that "what-ifs" never get you anywhere._ I strained to reach the grate up ahead.

_Just-_

_A bit- _

_Farther…_

I grunted and pulled my torso through the grid.

"Augh!" I tumbled a good ten feet down into a small, deserted area with a few bulky computer monitors on their respective desks and small plastic chairs strewn around. I rubbed my head in pain and noticed a small trickle of some red liquid dribbling down my lip. _Blood?_ I gently reached up and massaged my bruising face. My lip had apparently split in the middle when I face-planted the floor. The foreign coppery taste filled my mouth and I made a face. Pain shot through my mouth and I froze, unused to this feeling. Sure, I had felt pain before, but… not like this. It was sharper somehow, edgier. More... real.

I tried to ignore my now aching head- _that never hurt whenever I fell down on missions!_- and approached one of the computers. I pressed the "ON" button and waited for the computer to start up. I tapped my foot impatiently. "Loading… loading… loading… Ah!" A box popped onto the screen welcoming me to the Bemis Public Library and asking me for my library card number and four-digit password.

_Ooh._

Hoping against hope, I got down on all fours and began crawling around the computer desks and chairs… and found a small rectangle of printed plastic with a faded string of numbers on the back.

_Booyah! Dumb skill strikes again!_

I plopped myself down on the hard plastic chair in front of the keyboard and typed in the digits.

_Password?_

I punched the keys 1, 2, 3, and 4, and hit enter as I crossed my fingers for luck.

A web browser popped on the screen with a search engine on the bar in the upper-right-hand corner. "Ron stoppable", I typed. I waited for the page to load, then looked at the list of links now displayed.

"Ron Stoppable - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia"

"Ron Stoppable's Awesome Website : MAIN"

"Ron Stoppable's Really Neat Page - Home"

"YouTube - Kim Possible & Ron Stoppable Kiss The Girl ..."

"Ron Stoppable"

"Ron Stoppable And Rufus LYRICS"

The list continued, but I clicked on the first link. A page came up with an article on the left and a drawing at the right. The drawing…

…was_ me._

Yes, it was cartoony, and it had a silhouette of a mouse's head in the corner for no apparent reason, but it was me, from my mission clothes to my unruly blond hair to my freckled cheeks, and even the odd Monkey Kung Fu stance I was in with a "Let's Fight" inviting grin.

My jaw dropped as I began to read the article.

* * *

"**Ronald 'Ron' Stoppable** is a fictional character from the Disney animated television series _Kim Possible_. His first and last name is a take on "Unstoppable", and he is voiced by actor Will Friedle.

He debuted in the series opening episode in June 2002,1 starred in all 65 episodes of season 1-3, and made his season 4 debut in an episode initially broadcast exclusively over the Disney Channel website in February 2007, and returned to Disney Channel on February 10.2

Ron is a high school student with an eccentric personality who serves as a 'bumbling sidekick' to the show's titular protagonist Kim Possible. He was Kim's best friend from seasons 1-3 and eventually progressed to the level of boyfriend during the season 3 finale. He provides much of the franchise's comic relief, but also serves as an anchor to Kim's competitive/image conscious personality.

Ron is of medium height and lanky; his long face has a wide mouth, a round nose, freckles on his cheeks, brown eyes, and messy blond hair."

* * *

_These people… know all about me._

"Wait!" I said to myself, scrolling up and rereading the first sentence.

"_**Ronald 'Ron' Stoppable**__ is a __fictional character__ from the __Disney__animated television series__Kim Possible__."_

"_**'****Ron' Stoppable**__ is a __fictional character__-"_

"_Fictional character-"_

The words, silent on the screen, seemed louder to me than a hundred titanium bombs.

"I'm… not real…"

I continued to read the rest of the piece, which detailed things like Rufus, Camp Wannaweep, Zorpox, my (perhaps now former) Mystical Monkey Powers, my sidekick position, and my personality. My eye began to twitch. This web page knew me inside and out!

"I'm… not real…" I repeated, trying to grasp the concept. I looked down at myself, felt my arms, my face, my lip.

"Or… I wasn't, anyway…"


	6. Now with 30 percent more Poe references!

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received. I do not own _The Simpsons _or "The Raven", either. I hope my friend forgives me for inadvertently inserting her into the story. And don't worry; an adult was behind Alli the whole time, so she wasn't in danger of getting attacked by pantsless hobos if she answered the door. I was planning on uploading this later, but SOMEBODY cough_Willowleaf2560_cough had to use some form of psychic powers on me, forcing me to upload. Maybe this'll make up for my late chapter last time. But now I'm behind schedule! hurries to write new chapter  
_

After about fifteen minutes, I pulled my eyes and thoughts away from the article on the screen. Whatever was going on, it was seriously strange. _Whether that... horrible article is true or not, it won't help if I have a breakdown or something when I should be trying to get home._

_That's assuming you __**can**__ get home._

I muttered something rather unfavorable about disloyal brains and clicked out of the "Wikipedia" page. I went back to the search engine and searched for a few more things. There were many "Middleton"-s in the USA, even one in Colorado, but none of them were mine- not one of them was near an "Upperton" or "Lowerton". I also found out a bit more about Littleton and printed out a map of it. I had backtracked to my first search and was about to click on a link that promised the "Naked Mole Rap: Super Sped Up Frenzy Edition", when I suddenly heard some young, male voices behind me, getting gradually louder and louder.

"Hey, did you catch that new episode of _The Simpsons_ that was on last night?"

"Yeah. Hey, what about that part where Bart-"

"Kids!" Another, older, and feminine voice said harshly. "Be quiet in the library!"

The two boys' voices chorused in a groan. "Yes, mom."

I had to get out of there before somebody found me- I still wasn't sure I was allowed to be here. My eyes darted around nervously, and I came to a split-second decision and dashed to the corner the voices came from.

I sprinted past two startled preteens and a woman as I rounded the corner. "'Scuse-me-one-way-gotta-go-sorry!" I shouted as I ran past them and near the glass door that promised a way out.

"Woah! Where's the fire, dude?" One of the boys called.

The woman gasped. "Was that man not wearing pants?"

Soon I reached the door and pushed my way out. _Whew,_ I thought as I sucked in the sweet, fresh air of freedom. _No more musty book smell._

I took another cleansing breath and walked away from the library in relief.

_What next?_

I cursed my currently annoyingly insightful brain but conceded that I might need to plan ahead. My thoughts wandered back to the website I had seen, and especially that one sentence that sent my mind reeling.

"_**Ronald 'Ron' Stoppable**__ is a __fictional character__ from the __Disney__animated television series_Kim Possible_."_

_Wait a second... "Animated television series"?_

I fervently hoped that the article was wrong, but I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The sidewalk was busier now- _Maybe because it's not the dead of night anymore, Stoppable. Duh!_- and I got several strange looks from fellow pedestrians.

"Look, Mommy, look! It's a dirty man without pants!" Shouted a little girl with short black hair as she pointed at me. _Dirty?_ I looked down at myself and saw that I was indeed covered with dust and dirt from my little excursion in the library's vents. _Strange. Whenever KP, Rufus, and I infiltrated a lair, the vents were always spotless. Although, now that I think about it, how did the villains manage to clean way in there?_

"Shh, honey," A woman who I assumed was the girl's mother reprimanded as she gave me a wary glance. "It's not polite to point." She gave me a wavering, faux-ly empathetic smile and said patronizingly, "There's a Salvation Army on Arapahoe Road."

She started to hurry away and I called out, "A what? Where?"

She quickly yelled back some directions and hastened her daughter away as I looked after her, tilting my head in confusion.

_Oh, well,_ I finally decided. _It's not like I have anywhere better to go._ I began to follow the directions given, checking my map now and then, and walked…

And walked…

And walked…

Just when I was about to say, "Screw this," and turn around (about two hours into my excursion), I finally came to a large, stone, L-shaped building with three tall white crosses decorating the corner. I walked around it, surveying its appearance, and knocked on the door.

A pretty teenage girl with a slightly grimy tee-shirt and her red hair pulled back into a ponytail answered. "Sorry, we're closed right now- doing a little renovation." She smiled prettily until she saw my dirtied body and nearly unclothed lower half, and did a double-take. "Oh, my," She murmured and started to close the door. I, in turn, almost walked away, but she halted and said softly, "No, don't go. I'll be right back."

I leaned against the wall. _What was that all about?_ I didn't have long to think, though, because she came back with some jeans and a towel in hand. "I'm sorry we don't have many donated clothes today, but would you like some clothes? I think the pants'll fit- I'm a pretty good judge of sizes."

Stunned, I almost nodded, but caught myself. "Wait, it isn't what it looks like. I'm not a hobo or anything, I'm just lost."

"Oh, where do you live?" She asked, smiling again, this time sadly.

"Um, just… ah… nowhere you'd be able to help me get back to."

"Oh." The girl bit her lip. "Well, I'm Alli. Are you sure you don't want these?"

"I guess I could use them," I muttered, taking the clothes. "Thanks, Alli. I'm Ron."

"Alli!" A voice said from directly behind her. "Do you know where the paint is?"

"Yeah, just a second, Dad." She turned and added to me, "There's a shower at the park over there," and pointed. She closed the door after she said, "See you, Ron. I'll be praying for you!"

I waited a beat, and then started to walk where she had pointed, looking at the only slightly worn pants and the towel in my hand. _That was nice,_ I thought. _Alli was nice, too. She looked a lot like-_

_**Kim.**_ I felt a pang in my heart as I remembered her.

_Remembered, schmembered. You never forgot her. How could you, that rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Kimberley Anne?_

_Oh, great, now my brain's quoting Poe. That has got to be one of the warning signs of insanity._

_Hey, it fit._


	7. Really bad managing and the PDP

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received. Oh, and before you ask, this is **not**__ going to be a self-insertion fic. I don't normally hang out in Littleton. :P And Ron __**does**__ know the PDP, as shown in "Car Alarm"._

_"Matthew" pointed out to me that in the real Littleton Co, "Littleton Library doesn't have heating ducts. They remodeled last year, and they have radiant floor heating__ now. My response: I've never been to Littleton, so... (sweat drops) Um, (frantically tries to find an explanation) um... __The story takes place the day before they started remodeling! Yes! The very last possible day for Ron to crawl through the air ducts, he does! _

_Whew._

_As you might be able to tell, Ron's universe operates on a slightly different time frame from our own (he's about 23 now, while here he just got out of high school; I may later provide an explanation), so it's plausible. Right? (laughs nervously) Writing magic saves the day!_

I stepped out of the shower with my new/used pants and old shirt on, tousling my hair with the towel Alli gave me. It felt really good to be clean again, after all the grime and dirt that had clung to my clothes rubbing against me all day. Fortunately, there had been more than enough soap in the park's public shower that the last user had left on the rack.

Twisting my head around, I looked at my jeans. I walked to the mirror, cleaned off the steam, and checked my appearance.

_Ron Stoppable, you handsome devil, you._

I ran my hands through my hair once and winked at my reflection to emphasize my thought and, satisfied, pulled on my (now also cleaned) shoes and socks. Grabbing the set-aside cell phone and map, I moved out of the shower and back into the park.

My cleanliness needs taken care of, my body moved on to the next item on the checklist: food. My stomach rumbled.

_I know I'm always hungry, but come on! I just ate!_

_Yeah, fourteen hours ago._

_Well, where am I supposed to get more food?_

I sighed and began to head back to the Taco Bell.

Much later, I wound back at the Tex-Mex place I had deserted twice in the past twenty-four hours. I entered, hearing the now-familiar jingle of the door's bell.

The man-that-wasn't-Fred glared back at me.

I gulped loudly.

"What do you want now?" He asked, not enraged but fairly annoyed.

"Um, I still don't have money or food, so… do you have a job for me?" My voice faded to a squeak as my courage left me.

Not-Fred began to answer when the lady with the Southern drawl came from the door marked "Employees Only" and cut in, apparently having heard the last bit of our exchange.

"Now, Fred, don't shoot him down. We need another kid in the kitchen, ever since that galfriend of yours quit."

I could practically hear Not-Fred's teeth grinding against each other as he muttered, "_Ex-_girlfriend." He then raised his voice so his boss could hear him. "This _hobo_ can't just waltz in here and get a job! It took me five months to get _my_ position!"

The manager laughed good-naturedly. "Well, honey, would you rather have him do the job, or your gal-"

Not-Fred interrupted, sighing moodily. "All right, already! He can work here…" He scowled and added, "I guess."

"Alright, man!" I said, thumping him energetically on his back with my fist. "You won't regret it, I promise!"

"Personal bubble, dude!"

I backed away. "Uh, right. Sorry."

The lady smiled. "Thankee, Fred." She walked out of the building victoriously, satisfied that she had done enough managing for the day.

As soon as she was out, Not-Fred turned to me. "Okay, man, first things first. My girl just broke up with me, I'm in a dead-end job at a fast-food place with no customers, and I'm really temperamental when I haven't had my coffee, so don't get on my bad side."

I nodded and he seemed to calm down.

"Another thing- the manager, Annabelle Taylor, who you just met- she doesn't remember _anybody's_ name. She just looks at the nametag. I don't have a new one printed for you, whatever your name is, so get used to being called 'Dean' or 'Adrian'."

"What?" I wondered, but he continued on.

"I know you probably aren't that good in the kitchen, but just follow the directions on the posted sheet and try to make up the rest."

"But-"

"We should have a few customers dropping in in half and hour or so, so go wash your hands- _with soap_- and get started."

He pushed me impatiently toward the kitchen door.

"Alright, alright, already." I told him, walking through the "Employees Only" door and into the kitchen.

I first washed my hands at the sink, then looked around and smiled. Despite how everything else seemed to have changed, I was still, I assumed, a whiz in the kitchen. I soon lost myself in the preparation of both menu items and original, spontaneous Tex-Mex. I was in my element.

Time seemed to fly by until I finished the last taco, sprinkling on a few spices and taking a whiff. _Aah._

Not-Fred swung open the door, startling me out of my reverie and into a habitual, mild defensive position. "Hey, you. Are you okay? I haven't heard any- Wait. You're not supposed to _pre-prepare_ the food-" He stopped dead in his tracks, frozen. He inhaled, stunned, and sighed with pleasure. I relaxed my form as he began to stutter.

"You want a taste?" I asked, pleased. Not-Fred nodded slowly, and I presented a cheese quesadilla with a flourish. Stunned, he took a bite and smiled.

_That's probably the first and last time I'll ever see him smile._

He looked at the food in his hand and back at me.

"Like it?" I asked.

He seemed to jerk back to reality. "Uh, yeah. Good job. Keep up the good cooking."

"Thank you!" I grinned as he walked back out again.

_Haha! The Ronman's got it goin' on!_

After a few minutes, Not-Fred stuck his head in the doorway again. "Hey, man, I need two beef tacos, a Mexican pizza- no meat- and a side order of nachos!" He called. And so it began. For the next two hours I spent my time filling orders and cooking. Strangely, though, there was no rush- very unlike what I had experienced in my short time working at Bueno Nacho. Once the orders slowed to a once-every-half-hour trickle, I pushed the kitchen's door open. I saw Not-Fred at the counter and approached him.

"Hey, Not-Fred?" He looked up. "Why aren't there many customers here?"

"'Cause the food is crummy." I must have looked offended, because he amended, "_Was_ crummy. My ex was the cook, see, and when we started having fights…"

I stared at him.

"She ruined the food, alright?" He raised his voice. "Nobody wants to come to a Taco Bell and get cinnamon twists with red peppers and onions on them!"

I cringed from the thought. "Well, hey, she's gone now, and I'm here."

"Lucky me," He muttered, but I pretended not to hear him.

"So business is sure to pick up, and so will your career!"

He considered the thought, and almost smiled again, but quickly scowled. "Wait, where do you think you're going to stay tonight? You can't sleep outside and come to cook dirty, and…"

I stared at him again, sadly.

"No. Oh, no, you're not staying with me! You can't…"

My lower lip quivered..

"There is no way…"

I stuck my lip out, heartbreakingly pathetic.

"I'm not gonna…"

…and I began to unleash…

_The Puppy Dog Pout._

I could see Not-Fred's resolve fading in milliseconds. His shoulders slumped. "Okay, okay, you can share the apartment with me."

"Booyah!" I suddenly was happy once again, pumping my fist in the air.

"But you have to pay half the rent!" He added stubbornly. I ignored him but began to wind down the celebration.

"Hey, if we're gonna be roomies," I stopped and thought aloud, "You gotta know my name. It's-"

"I don't think so!" Not-Fred interjected, retorting. "People are like puppies. Once you name them, you'll never get rid of them!"


	8. The Apartment

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received._

I put my hands on my hips, looking around the apartment. It was mostly bare, with a few household items scattered on the floor and draped across the beat-up teal couch sitting in front of a small TV. A small kitchen table with one fold-up chair angled away from it sat on the patch of linoleum floor that probably served as a dining room. Visible from the doorway were wooden cabinets in the kitchen and a half-opened door on the left that showed a small blue bed and a similarly-colored lamp. All in all, it seemed cluttered and cramped, but not terrible uncomfortable.

"Ahem!" I heard Not-Fred clear his throat behind me, and I stepped aside to let him enter.

"Nice place," I commented, but he rolled his eyes.

"It's ugly, undersized, and cheap."

"Um, right." I said awkwardly.

"Well, come on in," he stated sarcastically. "Make yourself right at home."

I followed him and took a seat on the couch near the television.

"There's no remote and the set's black and white. I only get basic cable."

I tilted my head, puzzled, but got up and turned on the TV. A grainy gray bit of fuzz gradually came into focus and the sound kicked in as a reporter described the future weather conditions.

"And I know the couch has holes. It's the best I can afford."

I finally turned to him. "Don't you do anything but complain?"

He faced me and looked like he was about to reply angrily, but stopped when he saw it was meant as an honest question, not an insult. His expression slowly turned pensive, and I started watching the news and left him with his thoughts.

* * *

"Well, I'm turning in for the night," Not-Fred announced.

Puzzled, I turned to look at a clock. "It's only five o'clock," I said.

"Yeah, well, I have to get up at ten," he said. "I work the late shift, remember?"

I quieted until I thought of something. "Wait, when should I get up?"

"Doesn't matter, since you pre-prepared the food," he scorned. "It should stay fresh until you come in tomorrow."

"What's bad about cooking the food?" I inquired innocently.

"It's... not that. It's just… _**We don't do anything by the book anymore**_!" he shouted unexpectedly, and I jumped. "Nobody holds any respect for any of the rules. Nothing's clear-cut anymore, and everything's going to shambles! The restaurant, my job, the apartment, my relationship with my girlfriend!"

"_Ex_-girlfriend," I added.

"Exactly! Everybody does what they're not supposed to do and expects me to go along with it, too! We're not supposed to let hobos come in and cook! We're not supposed to let them move in! We're not supposed to talk about a long-term relationship for months then end it in a day! The world's just not supposed to work this way!" He choked as he started to sob. "And grown men aren't supposed to break down crying in front of total strangers!"

"Hey, man, it's gonna be okay," I said, reaching out to pat him on the back.

He slapped my hand away. "Likely story."

I rolled my eyes. Steeling myself, I stood up and surprised both of us by shaking him forcefully by the shoulders. He stopped to look at me wide-eyed.

"Get a grip, man! The world isn't falling to pieces, you are! Just take a deep breath and think for a minute!" He did so. "Okay, your girl left you. Big whoop. There are other girls out there, obviously ones better suited for you than she was! Your job is failing. Maybe it's because you've given up on it! _Feel _for the Tex-Mex, dude! And your apartment is messy because you're too busy wallowing in self-pity, anger, and denial to clean it up! Take a look at your life, Not-Fred, and do the best that you can with it!" I stopped to look at the ring on my finger, and added more quietly, "You never know when you'll lose it."

* * *

_Great, a sob-fest. Let's dig out the tubs of chocolate ice cream and watch soap operas. I'll get the nail polish!_

_C'mon, brain. You know he needed to let loose._

_And blubber all over your shirt?_

_It's better for him. Look, if he feels better, he won't crab at us so much, and we can do whatever we want without getting chewed out._

_Touché._

_That makes the score…_

_Brain 3, Ron 1. Still in the lead._

I grumbled and Not-Fred, now dry-eyed, looked at me oddly. "What?"

"Nothing." But as soon as Not-Fred's back was turned, I started muttering once again.


	9. Dream Girl

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received._

The next day, I was in Taco Bell's kitchen cooking a breakfast burrito. It was ten o'clock in the morning and I was feeling very refreshed after sleeping on Not-Fred's old-but-comfortable couch and eating a hearty breakfast of some sugary cereal called "Cocoa Puffs" I had scrounged up from Not-Fred's cupboard. Once the burrito was finished and out the drive-through window, I sighed contentedly, grabbed some nachos and cheese sauce- a small amount of food was, apparently, a perk of my job- and exited the kitchen to take a snack break with Not-Fred.

He looked up at me expectantly. "That was the last customer?"

I nodded and he slid out from behind the counter. I held out my bag of nachos and he helped himself to a handful, dipping them in cheese.

The restaurant was quiet until I broke the silence. "So, when are you gonna find a girl?"

Not-Fred spewed out his nachos. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and handed him a napkin. He coughed. "What?"

"A girl. You know, kissing, hand-holding, marriage vows…"

"Marriage vows!? Oh, no, you don't get it. I'm not a relationship person."

"But you had a girlfriend."

"_Ex_-girlfriend!" He stopped himself, then sighed. "You're living in a fantasy world. Not everyone needs a significant other to be happy!"

I studied his face. _I know I'm about the most oblivious person on earth, but I know that expression._ I remembered the events before the Junior Prom. _I've felt it._

"Maybe not everyone needs a girl," I said softly. "But some people do."

* * *

That night, I walked around the block that housed Not-Fred's apartment. I looked up at the full moon and the skies speckled with an unimaginable number of stars and heaved a sigh. _Back home, my life was almost never this complicated._

_Is complicated good?_

_It's... different._

**_Good_**_ different?_

_I... I don't know. It might be, it **could** be, but everyone in Middleton…_

_Like Kim?_

I smiled sadly. _You read my mind._

_I **am** your mind._

I sighed again.

_How am I here? **Why** am I here?_

I don't know how long I stood there, just wondering and thinking of home and Kim, but by the time I got inside and threw myself at the couch, I was too tired to think anymore. I fell asleep instantly, dreaming of nacos and monkeys and my wife's beautiful but mourning, piercing green eyes…

* * *

"Woah!" I was startled awake as the apartment's movement jarred me from my quietude. I looked around at the room, intact but messier than usual from the tumult.

"Woah," I reiterated. "What happened?"

I quickly climbed off the couch to try and answer the question. I ran down the hallway, stunned as I swung open the door and stepped out…

And saw a bunch of multicolored, smiling puppets at my feet.

With a scream of courage, I fell back on my rear in surprise.

One peered at me curiously. "Today's color is green!" it said happily. I shakily rose to my feet, but it put out a felt hand to stop me. "Do you see anything green?"

I looked around for greenness, feeling that it would be best to obey.

Suddenly I saw Shego's jumpsuited legs with a pair of sparkly red heels… underneath Not-Fred's apartment building. I yelled and ran to help her, but the puppets stopped me, grouping together to block my path.

_"What are you doing!?"_ I screamed. "_She needs help!"_

A red puppet shook its head. "Too late. She's dead."

"**_Dead!?"_** I shrieked hysterically.

"Dead!" All the puppets chorused, and unexpectedly broke into song. "Ding-dong, the witch is dead-"

"No, stop!" I shouted. "You can't do this! I… I didn't want this to happen!"

"Well," a blue puppet spoke up sagely. "What do you want?"

I felt like crying. "I just want to go home."

I spotted a soap bubble floating in the distance. I stared at it, blinking away the tears that weren't there. It floated toward me serenely, pausing as it hovered in front of me and grew, expanding until it was the size of a full grown human. I cringed as it popped and revealed…

"Kim?" I said disbelievingly. Then, "Kim!" I rushed to embrace her, but she held up a hand and pointed to my feet. On them were Shego's sparkling ruby stilettos.

My feet wobbled unsteadily and I fought to keep my balance and listen to Kim.

"You can always get home," she said cheerily. "Just click your heels together and say, 'There's no place like home.'"

I nodded happily and tried to click my heels.

It didn't work.

Kim raised her eyebrows and I laughed nervously and tried again. No luck.

Again. A face-plant into the earth resulted.

About ten unsuccessful attempts later, I was sprawled on the ground, bruised and defeated.

"Ron," Kim said warningly, "Click your heels."

"I can't, KP!" I moaned. "I tried, I really tried, but I can't!"

Immediately the bright, cheery light was replaced by enshrouding darkness. The previously grinning puppets scowled, and Kim glared at me.

"Too bad, Ron Stoppable. You had your chance!" she said, and turned her back to me. She walked away with nary a backwards glance.

"No, KP!" I cried, to no avail. She didn't even flinch as she disappeared into the shadowed beyond.

"Kim, come back!" I sobbed. "KP, there's no place like home! No place like home! No place-"

* * *

"…like home!" I yelled, opening my eyes to see Not-Fred's apartment, stationary and semi-clean once again. Not-Fred snored away in his bedroom, unawakened by my nightmare-induced outburst.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to throw myself to the ground again and again in desperation.

But I settled for hugging myself and whimpering, "Kim."


	10. Beautiful Girl

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received._

The next afternoon, after one of my shifts at Taco Bell had ended, Not-Fred came out from behind the counter, approaching me hostilely.

I turned to him, but he cut off the question before I could articulate it. "Alright, let's get this over with."

I raised an eyebrow. "Get what over with?"

"You said you'd find me a girl." He waved a hand at my protests. "I don't want one, I don't need one, but you keep bothering me! With your constant badgering, it's a wonder I get any sleep. I know you'll keep pestering me, so like I said, let's just get it over with."

I was about to object when something clicked. "_Ooooohhh_…." I said, understanding, and winked.

Not-Fred just gave me a funny look. "Is there something in your eye?"

I rolled my eyes and beckoned out the door. "Follow me."

* * *

"This," I said as I waved my arms grandly about as Not-Fred held his head in his hands embarrassedly, "is the street. Many persons of the female persuasion tend to walk upon it, making it a prime place for girl-watching and finding."

"I knew I shouldn't have come…" Not-Fred scowled, but the grimace didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Anybody catch your interest?" I asked him animatedly.

_Maybe "animatedly" isn't the right word, anymore…_

_Shut up._

Distracted by my brain, I almost didn't notice Not-Fred shake his head slowly… but I _did_ notice him looking everywhere on the street except for directly across from him. I glanced there and saw a brunette, looking to be in her early twenties, stepping livelily along, swinging her leather handbag. Her calf-length brown, slightly crimped skirt billowed around her matching high-heel boots. Her white peasant shirt was decorated with thin knitted flowers and flattered her well. She was beautiful.

I pulled Not-Fred up by the shoulders and began to drag him towards her.

"Wha- What are you doing?" he sputtered.

"You're going to talk to her and find out her name."

"Whose name?"

"Hers," I gestured with my head to the girl. Not-Fred blushed, proving my suspicion correct. He tried to cover it up with an indignant look as I shoved him in her direction. He stumbled, caught himself, and tried to make contact with her.

"Er…" he said nervously- this was a side of him I hadn't seen yet- and rubbed his neck. He hurried to keep in step with her. "Excuse me…"

She hadn't seemed to hear him. He spoke up. "Excuse me!"

She looked evenly at him. "Yes?"

Not-Fred took a breath. "Hi, um, I saw you across the street, and I was wondering if…" He swallowed as jumbled his next words. "you'dliketogettoknoweachother. My name's-"

"No." She cut him off. She walked away, unphased.

He stared after her, and even I felt the ice from her words. I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"I told you I hate change," he mumbled.

"Hey, man," I frowned at him. "Like an old friend of mine taught, 'change is a part of life, and leads to growth, wisdom and happiness.'"

He looked at me. "What kind of friends do you have?"

"You, for one," I said. "C'mon, man, don't you feel better?"

"Better!?"

"Yeah, better. That was a beautiful girl, and she totally snubbed you, but you came out just fine. It wasn't the end of the world, and it's her loss if she doesn't care."

Not-Fred looked up again, and for the second time since I'd known him, almost smiled. "You have the weirdest way of turning nonsense into something profound."

"Hey, I _am_ what I _is_."

Then he did something really unexpected. He began to laugh.

And soon I joined in.

* * *

After walking around for a little while, we headed back to Taco Bell for the next shift. As the restaurant was coming into view, Not-Fred poked me sharply.

"Hey!" I said, rubbing my arm.

"Did you mean what you said back there, man?"

I glanced up at him. "What, about the girl?"

"No, no, no. About… you know…" I must have had my trademark clueless expression on, because he elaborated. "…me being your friend?"

"Huh? Of course. What else would you be?"

"Your boss, your roomie, your casual acquaintance-"

"My friend."

Not-Fred got the same expression on his face as he had had the night I told him to get a grip- a deep contemplation as he reviewed something obviously important about himself. I pretended not to see and immersed myself in the delicious smell of Tex-Mex as we entered Taco Bell.


	11. Long Gone Girl

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received._

"So…" Not-Fred said conversationally, leaning on the counter of the window connecting the kitchen to the dining area of Taco Bell. "What about you?"

"Uh, non-sequitur," I pointed out.

"You. Your love life that must be so awesome you're entitled to direct mine."

I ignored the sarcasm. "I have a wife." Not-Fred feigned extreme bewilderment as I continued, "A beautiful wife. The most wonderful girl you'd ever meet. Anybody who met her loved her, and for some inexplicable reason she chose me."

"So what happened?"

"I don't know," I said honestly.

"You broke up?"

"No- yes- kind of- not really," I amended. "We got separated."

"Had a fight?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I still love her, and she still loves me. I think." I stopped, realizing how this must have sounded. "We were separated _physically_. Pulled away from each other. She thinks I'm dead and I have no idea how to get to her."

"Why don't you look for her?"

"This isn't _The Incredible Journey_!" I shot out louder than I needed to. "There is no way I'll ever be able to see her again, her or anyone else I love!"

Not-Fred stood there awkwardly, and I paused. "Kim wouldn't want me to do this," I murmured. "She'd want me to stay strong for her."

"Kim?"

"Yeah."

"Everybody you knew- gone?"

"Yeah."

"Come on!" Not-Fred said. "There has got to be something you've got that you haven't left behind."

I contemplated that for a moment, then snapped my fingers. "Aah! You're right…" Not-Fred almost smiled again, encouragingly. "I forgot about the power of imagination!" I wiggled my fingers excitedly around my head. "I believe we all have that!"

Not-Fred gave me that look again.

I slumped down on the floor, my back facing the window. "Yeah, okay, alright, you're right. I've got nothin'."

He leaned over the window edge. "Man, don't get down. I'm sure you'll see her again."

I shook my head.

He tried again. "Then I'm sure you'll get over it. Like you told me, not having a girl isn't the end of the world."

I sighed. "I really appreciate you trying to help me, but KP and I- we had something special, more than friends, more than lovers. Something that you can't just shrug off."

He nodded. "You want to be alone?"

I whispered through tears that wouldn't come, feeling like I was choking. "Please and thank you."

* * *

"So, Fred, how's every li'l thing?" I heard a voice call out and scrambled to my feet once I had taken a few deep, preparing breaths. I rushed to my post and began some busywork, expecting what was about to happen.

"Miss Taylor," Not-Fred's now glum voice tried to fake perkiness but failed miserably. "So nice of you to check in on the restaurant now and then." Even I could hear the implied insult, but Annabelle Taylor laughed pleasantly.

"I do like to check up on you boys, make sure you're not throwing the store to the dogs!" Not-Fred tried to chuckle along, but it was stale and unconvincing.

"And how's our new cook?" Miss Taylor called to me.

"Fine!" I said quickly. "Everything's bon-diggety!" I realized my faux pas of using my personal brand of slang with my boss, but she laughed again.

"Good to hear that-" She paused, peering through the window and squinting at my name tag. As she was several feet away and I was turned from her, it was a lost cause and she eventually gave up. "...You."

The entire time she was at Taco Bell, she did nothing but spout empty compliments and taste the food.

Finally she leaned back and looked at the clock on the wall. "Well, keep up the good work!" she said, inching toward the door. She waved widely, and darted out.

Not-Fred and I stared at each other for a moment, holding our breaths to see if she was really gone. After a bit, we both sighed deeply, glanced at each other, and burst out laughing for the second time that day. We didn't stop, even when a customer came in. She glanced between us, as we doubled up in convulsive laughter, and the door, apparently debating whether to call a doctor or run for the hills. Thankfully she did the latter, which made us laugh even more.

* * *

That night, I played Pong with Not-Fred on his relic of a game system. We chatted conversationally, exchanging playful threats and joking around. I managed to win the first game or so, and Not-Fred decided to quit while he was behind and turn in for the night. I got up to make myself a grilled-cheese sandwich a little later, and while I waited for the bread to heat, I thought over the day. In fact, over the entire time I'd been here.

Helpful Alli, laughable Miss Taylor, and sour but eventually amiable Not-Fred... The apartment, Taco Bell, the park... Cooking in the kitchen, playing around with the TV set, laughing and bantering with Not-Fred ...

_Maybe this place isn't so bad after all._


	12. An Epilogue of Sorts

_A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. _

_Well, here we are, one month and twelve updates since the beginning. The final chapter. I think I'm gonna cry..._

_Thanks to my many reviewers and those who have added me to author alert. And a special shout-out to Troper (aka RedBlueGreen) for the reviews and encouragement needed to get me off the ground when I first posted. Without him, my thread on RonStoppable dot net would be a barren wasteland inhabited only by the ghosts of plotbunnies long gone._

It had been several months since the… occurrence. The one that had brought me here, to this world- one so strange, so different, but… I couldn't imagine going back to the absurdity of my fictitious reality. I wouldn't want to at all, in fact, if it weren't for my wife.

Beautiful, wonderful, darling Kim. Not a day passed that I didn't think about KP.

Not-Fred helped me, tried to get me to forget, but I couldn't. No one could forget Kim Possible.

When I told him her name, her full name, he laughed. "That so doesn't sound like a name," he had said. "Like a cartoon character's or something."

Not-Fred was much happier those days. When I asked him why, he told me to buzz off, but smiled.

That night I was working the late shift with him. I normally stayed up late playing his ancient video games and slept in the next morning, but that night, I felt… restless. Not-Fred persuaded me to come to work with him- he said it was so I could help pay a bigger share of the bills, but I think he just wanted some company.

However, at about 11:30, just half an hour before midnight, I left the kitchen. I told Not-Fred I wanted some fresh air.

I did indeed get some. This night was dark, but there was a full moon out- just like the night I arrived here.

I meandered around, feeling something that I couldn't quite put into words. The déjà vu was almost overwhelming, but I kept walking.

Within twenty minutes' time, though, I began to recognize my surroundings.

_This is the same place I was right after I died._

I hurried, turning at just the right places, until I came to a sudden stop…

At the corner.

The same corner I had appeared at what felt like years ago.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. I sat down, contemplative. Remembering Kim.

* * *

After about ten minutes I got up. Not-Fred would be waiting for me, and I could use the paycheck.

As I turned my back, though, I heard a yelp.

I spun around, startled.

There I saw a woman with tousled red hair and shocked green eyes, haphazardly strewn on the ground with her cropped black sweater falling off one shoulder. She stared up at me, obviously stunned beyond words.

I, too, was silent, stretching my hand out to her battered form.

She wordlessly grasped it. I pulled her up and we embraced for the first time in a lifetime. Our new lifetime.

_Fin._


End file.
